Shots Fired
by trulyyoursfiction
Summary: Elizabeth Keen goes undercover alongside Reddington to meet an associate of his. Shots are fired. Things go wrong, and then they go worse. ...Stand-alone short story, spin off from my coffee based series...*dark themes*, definite Lizzington vibes, but if that isn't your cup of tea, ch.2 will have plenty of Ressler.
1. Chapter 1

_**Shots Fired**_

Elizabeth Keen goes undercover alongside Reddington to meet an associate of his.

Things go wrong, and then they go worse.

_Stand-alone short story, spin off from my coffee based series. Enjoy!_

_xx_

* * *

**Shots Fired**

**xx**

The man was hiding something.

He seemed calm and collected on the surface, greeting Reddington with a smile and a nod, laughing along with him, clasping his arm and patting his back.

But something was off about him.

Elizabeth Keen could tell.

He was nervous underneath all that.

The animated chatter was an attempt to cover it up.

.

Scratching the side of his nose, the man turned to Elizabeth with a giant toothy smile, speaking rapidly to Reddington in...not spanish- _portuguese?_ - she smiled back at him, playing her part dutifully.

The man surprised Elizabeth by pulling her towards him by her shoulders to deliver kisses on each of her cheeks, before holding her out to look at her, eyes sweeping her up and down in admiration.

Elizabeth maintained her smile through it all due to sheer grim determination.

The man laughed loudly, looking back to Reddington as he spoke.

They needed this man's information to catch the latest Blacklister.

Raymond Red Reddington's associates were always interesting characters.

It would all be over soon, once they had this man's information, another Blacklister would end up behind bars.

A little...overfriendliness...could be tolerated.

.

Louis (_that was the name Reddington had used for the man_) finally released her, and Elizabeth took a polite half-step back, smiling all the while, to restore a comfortable amount of space between the two of them.

Elizabeth now stood on the opposite side of Reddington that she had started on, closer to the coffee bar than to the tables.

The large glass windows of the store glimmered in the light behind the man speaking to them- to Reddington, really.

Elizabeth couldn't understand a word they were saying, and felt for all the world like an unnecessary third wheel.

.

Reddington had insisted that she play opposite him in the latest game of undercover work.

It was completely unnecessary.

He could have met the informant alone.

But he insisted, and when it came to capturing Blacklisters, Reddington got what he wanted from the FBI.

So there she was.

Elizabeth Keen.

Standing beside Reddington in the coffee shop, smiling through a conversation she couldn't understand.

Glorified arm-candy with a direct link to the FBI skulking across the street in a commandeered storefront.

Elizabeth could hear the slight static in her ear from the bug linking them to the FBI...who were no doubt recording everything Louis said as they furiously hunted for a translator.

Reddington had failed to mention the meeting would talk place in a language other than english.

Elizabeth Keen was not surprised.

Inconveniencing the FBI even as he helped them seemed to be one of Reddington's favorite pasttimes.

.

Elizabeth smiled pleasantly at the two of them, trying to keep her stare vacant in order to avoid drawing suspicion as she watched the interaction between the two like a hawk.

She actually had a better view from this position, Elizabeth mused, glad Louis had given her the opportunity for a better vantage point.

Her back to the coffee counter, Elizabeth could observe not only Louis (with his back to the window) as he talked animatedly to Reddington, but also the consulting criminal himself.

The meet was taking place at a "coffee bar", a joint that fit somewhere between upscale and shabby chic.

Customers in attire ranging from the classic, carefully tailored suits Reddington favored to the expensively dishevelled hippie-inspired styles that were currently in style, filtered in and out of the coffee shop at their leisure.

By standing near the unmanned portion of the coffee bar's counter, their covert little group enjoyed relative privacy, most of the normal customers were seated snugly at the various tables throughout the place.

Louis had insisted on the place and Reddington had been accommodating to his choice.

.

Unable to understand what was actually being spoken Elizabeth focused on the other forms of communication taking place.

Raymond Reddington was as composed as always. His calm façade transformed easily to match his more animated companion's attitude.

The man was a chameleon, effortlessly charming his way through whatever situations came his way.

Louis seemed a tad more relaxed...relieved almost. His toothy grin was still in place as he gestured wildly along with Reddington.

He took a small step back and that was when Elizabeth saw it.

.

The red dot.

The small red dot flickering over Reddington's suit lapel, settling on his chest.

Realization struck her as Louis's eyes flickered from her back to Reddington, resolutely ignoring the telltale red dot, _which should have obvious in front of his eyes_, yet reaching for another half step back-

-time seemed to slow as Elizabeth reacted, and everything happened at once.

.

Her lunging for Reddington, a low sideswiping tackle, setting him off-balance and bringing him down with her- Elizabeth thankful for childhood summers spent playing football with less than friendly neighborhood kids.

She may have shouted "Get down!", but the sound of shattering glass and screaming drowned the warning out.

They landed hard on the ground, one of her shoulders connecting with the smooth stained concrete floor, partly under Reddington, partially over him.

Pain in her shoulder, _no_, the other shoulder.

Not the one that hit the floor.

Glass probably.

It was littering the floor around them.

.

People were screaming, and the bug in her ear was screeching at her as well- Ressler bellowing, demanding to know what was happening, shouting orders for the swat squad to prepare to head in- Elizabeth shouting back that they were fine, that there was a shooter, sniper, _on_ or _in_ the building opposite them- pulling herself away from Reddington, one hand pressing against her ear, trying to focus on everything at once.

Louis was gone, she spun to look for him, staying low.

.

Reddington was pushing her now; ushering her behind the counter holding the cream and sugar and stirring sticks.

"Don't let them blow our cover." He demanded, settling into place beside her, safe for the moment behind the counter.

She relayed the message through the earpiece.

"I repeat, do not come in- do not break cover.

We're fine, Reddington is unhurt.

They were aiming at him."

Elizabeth's mind was still whirring at what felt like a mile a minute, her eyes flashing around the coffee shop, now mostly cleared, a few customers crumpled on the ground terrified, maybe crying, but unhurt.

There had only been one shot.

.

"_Get out of there-"_ Ressler was demanding, too loudly, causing the earbud to crackle with static.

"_We're checking the building now-" _Meera's voice cut over his, calm and businesslike.

Elizabeth envied the CIA agent's ability to remain entirely collected in the moment.

.

"You're hurt."

The voice to her side was matter of fact, causing Elizabeth to glance back to the man beside her.

Reddington was staring at her, Elizabeth realized he had been for a good few moments.

It explained why he hadn't been the flurry of activity she had been expecting in a situation like this.

"You're bleeding."

He had announced it loud enough for Ressler to hear over the bug, Elizabeth realized in irritation.

The earpiece filled with static again,

"_Keen, I'm sending people in-"_

"I'm fine, Ressler." Elizabeth snapped back, making a mental note that someone needed to explain volume control to Agent Ressler in the future.

"It's just a scratch. The glass from the windows- HEY!"

Elizabeth jerked away from the sudden stab of pain that shot through her arm as Reddington's probing fingers made contact.

She glared at him, but the white hot jolt of pain made Elizabeth pause to reevaluate her own condition.

.

_Maybe it wasn't just a scratch._

And there definitely was blood staining the sleeve of her blouse.

A tiny twinge of sadness, _that had been a nice blouse._

"I'm fine." Elizabeth repeated sternly, pulling her arm defiantly away from Reddington's grasp.

Mad at him for hovering over her -_this was all his fault, criminal mastermind her ass_- and mad at Ressler for the nonstop barrage of questions and demands he was barking at her through the earpiece.

Elizabeth just needed a minute to think...

.

Luli Zeng appeared, slinking in from the back of the store, gun in hand.

Her eyes swept the scene, alighting on Reddington, who waved her over.

Confused customers scuttled away from the gun wielding woman in fright.

_So that's what he had been waiting for, his security team._

At Luli's nod, Reddington rose to his feet, brushing off his coat and reaching out to assist her...but Elizabeth had already scrambled to her own feet, glancing back behind them and out of the, now shattered, front windows to the building across the street.

_Had they caught the shooter?_ She wondered, her system still buzzing with adrenaline. Elizabeth felt an odd combination of simultaneously unstoppable yet utterly useless...primed to fight but with no enemy in sight.

She hoped they caught the bastard.

.

"We'll deal with all that later." Reddington stated, noting her hesitation and moving towards her, one hand settling firmly around the elbow of Elizabeth's _apparently_ injured arm.

Elizabeth tried to pull away from him, scowling.

That was completely unnecessary.

She was fine.

But Reddington's grip was deceptively vice-like, she couldn't slip him, and trying any harder hurt her arm...

Elizabeth felt the first twinge of concern then.

How badly _was_ her arm hurt? She had not felt it earlier, but something was obviously wrong.

_Had she been hit?_

Reddington's other hand somehow found its way to her lower back as he shepherded her out of the coffee shop, trailing a few paces behind Luli.

Elizabeth tried to ignore him, ignore all the contact; focusing instead on the voices in her earbud.

Not on the hand cradling her elbow.

Focusing on placing one foot in front of the other...not on how Reddington was looming at her shoulder, a half step behind her.

Definitely not focusing on the feeling of his other hand, flush against her lower back, fingers spread as he half guided, half pushed her along in front of him.

It was better to focus on something else.

.

It was easier to ignore Raymond Reddington, to deny how utterly aware Elizabeth was of him in that moment, when she was shouting back at Ressler through the earpiece.

"We're leaving through the back entrance."

"_We've got an ambulance two blocks-"_

"I'm fine." _More or less..._ "Did they catch the shooter-"

Static for a moment and then Meera Malik's voice came through again.

"_Negative. Whoever it was, they were here and gone in a matter of minutes. Set up fast and got out."_

The black sedan was idling in the alley behind the building, Dembe making his way quickly around the trunk to meet them, opening the door for Elizabeth as Luli slid into the front passenger seat.

.

Climbing into the car was more awkward than Keen would have liked to admit.

Reddington still maintained his _completely unnecessary_ controlling grip on Elizabeth's elbow, appearing unwilling to release her even as she entered the vehicle.

His other hand ghosting along at her back as she bent to enter the car; Elizabeth, finally freeing her elbow only to lose her balance, whipped her still-fully functioning arm away from her earpiece in order to catch herself against the seat, recovering quickly as she seated herself...scooting away from Reddington who had followed her into the car without delay.

_Of course nothing could ever go as planned when it came to the Blacklist._

A simple meet with an informant turning into an assassination attempt.

They should not have been surprised.

_But the shooter had gotten away..._

_._

"_Where are you now, Keen? The police are arriving." _Ressler had finally stopped shouting, his demands returning to a normal volume.

"We're in Reddington's car, his security is here. The contact- Louis, he's gone, he was gone, did you find him?"

_Was Louis involved with all this?_ _Was it a set up?_

Reddington was beside her again.

_Hovering._ Elizabeth thought in annoyance, ignoring him as the car began moving.

Trying to focus on communicating with the rest of the FBI team, trying not to forget any important details, anything they could use.

.

Reddington hovering wasn't helping, and Elizabeth moved further away from him, trying to give him space.

Whatever space she vacated Reddington quickly claimed, shifting along with her. Elizabeth shot him a glare of annoyance, she didn't have time for this and-

-and his hand was touching her neck.

"What the HELL?!-" Elizabeth exclaimed, whipping towards him, but he moved swiftly.

Reddington had a grasp at the base of her skull before Elizabeth could react and push him away, his grip firm, harsh, forcing her to look at him.

Reddington was far too close, leaning over her, _beyond_ too close, and Elizabeth was frozen in place.

Her heart guttered out and her stomach gave a sickening drop of realization.

She may have just saved Raymond Reddington's life, but in that moment, Elizabeth Keen was completely at his mercy.

_Was he going to-_

Reddington's face was impassive as his other hand reached up, cupping her cheek and then moving to her ear, yanking the earbud out without ceremony.

Elizabeth stayed frozen, speechless, watching Reddington in shock as he slid calmly back into his seat beside her, his arm remaining wrapped around her shoulder.

….

Reddington hummed to himself absent-mindedly, calm as could be.

...

Like nothing had happened.

...

The whole incident took less than a minute, less than thirty seconds.

But it left Elizabeth feeling as though she had been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of her.

...

She had been more scared in those few seconds than-

Elizabeth didn't want to think about it.

.

About how the man sitting flush beside her, whose arm was draped across her shoulder-his fingers rubbing soothing circles into the base of her neck, now- had frightened her more than everything that had transpired in the coffee shop.

_What the hell?_

"You can't just-" Elizabeth began to bluster, furious and frightened all at the same time, trying to shrug Reddington's arm off of her shoulders, to pull away from him.

A pointless exercise.

There was nowhere to go, she was boxed in, with the window on one side and Reddington on the other.

"Oh, do relax, Lizzie." Reddington shushed her, settling back into his seat further, tugging her along with him.

His fingers stroked along her neck in a steady rhythm.

"I'll keep the FBI as informed as they need to be."

"Get off of me!" Elizabeth spat at him, squirming to get away from him- freezing as pain shot up through her arm, catching her breath in her throat.

.

His arm was heavy around her shoulders, pinning her in place, pulling her against him, a painful pressure on her injury (H_ad she been shot? She wasn't sure anymore_) if Elizabeth tried to move at all.

"Just rest, Lizzie," Reddington stated calmly, giving her opposite shoulder a gentle squeeze before returning to brushing his fingers up and down the side of her neck.

_Fat chance of that happening, leaning against him like this._

Elizabeth would rather get shot at again.

Before Elizabeth could snap something back, Reddington continued dryly.

"I'd hate for you to hurt yourself."

Elizabeth was at a loss for words, shocked. Appalled.

_Was that a threat?_

_._

It felt like a threat, trapped as she was.

Elizabeth could neither shift away from him nor turn to confront him face to face, as Reddington slipped her earpiece into his own ear, seizing command of the situation whether she liked it or not.

.

"Stop shouting, Agent Ressler. Everything is under control."

Each brush of his fingers along the line of her neck was a reminder to Elizabeth of who was in charge for the moment.

_Why had she saved his life, again?_

_._

"Yes, someone did take a shot at me. But everything is fine now."

_No it wasn't. This was not fine._

"No, it's not totally unexpected. Not in my line of work. Though it _was_ quite uncivilized."

His voice was steady as ever, no one would have guessed Raymond Reddington had just barely escaped an assassination attempt.

.

Elizabeth Keen was furious.

She had just saved his life, and what was he doing?

She could not believe him.

A "thank you" may have been too much to expect, but a little consideration?

_Him not acting like a total ass?_

A little space even?

.

Elizabeth's right arm was aching something fierce now...obviously injured.

How she wasn't sure, but the pain seemed determined to gain her attention, eating away at Elizabeth's remaining patience.

"Give me back the earpiece." She growled at him.

Elizabeth would have moved to take it from Reddington if not for the restraining arm around her shoulders.

"Shhh.." he hushed her, barely glancing her way. "Don't interrupt, Lizzie."

_Fuck you,_ Elizabeth mentally shouted back at him, burning up with indignation. She hoped her injured shoulder was at least ruining one of his fucking suits- childish, Elizabeth knew- but if he insisted on sitting that fucking close...

Reddington continued to ignore her, and her obvious discomfort with their current arrangement, chuckling lightly at whatever had been said over the earpiece next.

"Aren't you always whining that I should talk directly to you?"

.

His fingers drummed against the back of her neck, making Elizabeth's skin crawl, and Reddington glanced towards her, offering a relaxed smile.

Elizabeth was beginning to understand Agent Ressler's undying distrust for Raymond Reddington.

.

"That isn't necessary."

Whatever they were talking about, Elizabeth was not in the mood to believe him...Reddington was probably being obstructionist, as always.

Elizabeth had had enough of one-sided conversations for the day. First the unexpected portuguese, and now only being able to hear Reddington's cryptic half of the conversation.

She glared back at him, mutinous...if looks could kill Reddington would be a dead man twelve times over.

.

"Lizzie's safe with me. She will need medical attention when we arrive. She seems to have had a run in with a bullet. Nothing serious, perhaps a bit painful. "

_Something he seemed to have no trouble capitalizing on._

"Just a scratch, like she said."

_Ruthless fucking bastard._

.

Elizabeth tried to shift away from him once more, twisting towards the window, ignoring the pain shooting through her shoulder at the movement.

_This was ridiculous._

"She's comfortable for the moment."

_Liar._ Elizabeth felt like laughing. _What world was he living in?_

_._

Without warning the pressure of Reddington's fingers against her neck changed.

Elizabeth felt his thumb stretching out, tracing its way up her neckline, burying into her hair and-

Elizabeth shivered against her will- frozen in place, mortified.

_The hell was Reddington playing at?_

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke through the earpiece to Ressler and the other FBI agents, all of whom were blissfully unaware of what Reddington was doing- how the rest of his fingers were following after his thumb, tracing up her neck and twisting, burrowing into the hair at the nape of her neck-

"Stop it." Elizabeth hissed, low and furious, finally breaking out of whatever paralysis had gripped her.

.

Her face was burning, unable to meet his eyes, humiliated by the situation.

.

Elizabeth Keen was two seconds away from flying at him, injury be damned.

Embarrassment be damned.

Let the FBI hear.

This was harassment!

.

If Reddington didn't-

-but he _did_.

.

His hand dropped immediately at Elizabeth's vehement demand.

She could feel Reddington's eyes flick instantly away from her, his head turning to stare out his own window.

His fingers slipping down her neck to rest at the joining of her shoulder, their continued presence still unwelcome, but far preferable to what he had been- where they _had_ been.

.

Elizabeth's skin felt electric under Reddington's touch, buzzing and heated...and her head felt heavy...dizzy.

_This was too much._

All of it.

.

Her arm had begun to throb intermittently with pain, the feeling gathering strength with each passing moment.

Elizabeth felt like crying; from frustration, from irritation, from anger, from nerves, from humiliation.

She fought down the burning feeling of tears, focussing on that battle.

Elizabeth could control that at least. She could keep it together, she was strong.

It was important to keep up appearances. To try and look calm, to look unaffected, even if she was on the verge of breaking inside.

If Elizabeth knew anything, it was how to act like everything was fine...even when things were falling apart.

.

She just focused on breathing steadily in and out, tracing her scar, listening to the half of the conversation with the FBI she could hear.

Reddington had been talking easily with the earbud the entire ride, chatting away but saying very little of interest.

"We'll meet you at back at the Post Office." he laughed then, causing Elizabeth to flinch slightly, mentally kicking herself for the involuntary reaction.

Even the small movement sent a burst of burning pain up her arm...the feeling growing more insistent.

If Reddington noticed he gave no sign of it, continuing his conversation indifferently.

.

"Dembe isn't risking the chance of us being followed. God knows you lot wouldn't recognize a tail.

We arrive when we arrive, and not a moment sooner."

.

He pulled the earpiece from his ear, pocketing it and sighing heavily, leaning back into the seat beside her.

A moments pause and then Reddington spoke again, directing himself to Dembe this time, "Music please, something calming. We've all had a rough morning."

.

Classical music swelled up around them, blanketing the eery silence that had filled the car after Reddington has ceased to communicate with the FBI.

Dembe continued to drive, and Luli Zeng kept her eyes staring straight ahead, as she had the entire trip, still as a statue.

Elizabeth felt isolated. Surrounded as she was...sitting in the car with three criminals, Elizabeth Keen felt miserably alone.

They might work together, but she was not one of them.

.

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

She focussed on feeling of the car driving, tracking each turn they made.

.

She wondered what the other members of the FBI team were doing right then.

Were they worried about her, alone with Reddington? Or was it not even a consideration?

Was the FBI taking his goodwill for granted, like she had been?

.

Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Elizabeth's fingers rubbed nervous circles against her scar, tracing the pattern over and over as she counted slowly in her head backwards from twenty.

She felt Reddington stir against her, his fingers resuming a soft back and forth stroking motion against her shoulder.

He was watching her again, Elizabeth could feel his eyes on her.

.

She couldn't look at him

She was afraid to meet Reddington's eyes.

Elizabeth was frightened that her carefully constructed façade of calm indifference would snap and reveal just how unsettled she was by this, by him, by everything.

She couldn't do that.

She could not show him that.

.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring hard at the seat in front of her.

Ignoring Reddington's gaze, tracing her scar in silence.

Counting in her head, listening to the music around them.

Ignoring the warmth of Reddington's side pressed into her.

Ignoring the weight of his arm over her shoulder, a gentle pressure now, almost reassuring.

Trying desperately to ignore the slow, featherlight strokes of his thumb against her shoulder- up the side of her neck and back.

.

Elizabeth did not want to be where she was.

She wanted to be home.

She wanted Tom.

She wanted Reddington to disappear.

To have never turned himself in in the first place.

This shouldn't be her job. This shouldn't be happening.

She sat and stewed in her thoughts- angry and resentful- swirling them around herself, cloaking herself like a shield.

.

Elizabeth was so tired.

Tired of fighting against the criminals on the Blacklist.

Tired of fighting with Reddington, with AD Cooper, with Agent Ressler.

Tired of fighting with Tom.

Tired of fighting with _herself_.

Elizabeth was tired.

She was cold.

She was in pain.

Her arm was one giant ache now, throbbing steadily with each beat of her heart.

Elizabeth wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

.

She just wanted to sleep.

To close her eyes, and lean against the arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders.

But she couldn't.

That was all a lie.

The arm around her shoulders was not Tom's.

The fingers stroking soothingly against the side of her neck were not her husband's.

They belonged were Raymond Reddington's.

A criminal.

A traitor.

A _killer_.

Elizabeth couldn't trust Reddington.

She had just saved his life, but she couldn't trust him.

.

So Elizabeth sat in silence, listening to the music swell and fade around her, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with each blink.

Dreading her current situation, eager to arrive at the Post Office, knowing that the next few hours would be long and difficult.

.

_Focus on the future._ Elizabeth retreated into herself, planning it out. _It was good to have a plan._

There would be a debriefing. Paperwork.

It might be hours before she could go home.

_But she could get away from Reddington._

Soon.

They just had to reach the Post Office.

xx

* * *

**xx**

**Authors Note:**

_Guys. GUYS. GUISE!_

_I was trying to write a chapter for the my story Coffee Time...but then it got away from me and turned into this giant project instead._

_Much more dramatic and creepy and long than the Coffee Time shorts._

_But very good, no?_

_I wanted to try my hand at something with a bit more action in it, while still focussing on Elizabeth and her thoughts._

_Also, some more intense Elizabeth/Reddington interactions._

_What **is** he playing at? Hmmm?_

_Very Lizzington, treading that fine line between the two of them._

_Did Reddington cross it?_

_Does he care? (_What did Reddington say about lines in the sand...something about them disappearing?_)_

_**And this is just part 1!_

_There was only supposed to be one part...but things happen, and now there is a part 2 in the works._

_I wrote most of it while editing this first part. (Funny how things escalate, huh?)_

_It will be shorter than this chapter, but it will wrap things up nicely...for now at least._

_The second part will have a bit more of Reddington, but a pretty decent chunk of it is devoted to Ressler and Elizabeth interacting...So Ressler fans can look forward to that! _

_Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! _

_I'd like to thank all the wonderful people who have left such encouraging reviews on my other stories!_

_ I appreciate every review! _


	2. Chapter 2

x.x.x

**Shots Fired, Ch. 2**

x.x.x

_Part 2: In which we discover why Dembe was near the trunk of the car, Elizabeth reestablishes distance between herself and Reddington, and Ressler expounds on why Reddington is an untrustworthy rat. _

* * *

**Shots Fired, Part 2**

x.x.x

After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled into the underground garage of the Post Office.

Elizabeth had never been so grateful to see the military guard waiting to escort them.

"Seems they've sent out the welcoming committee." Reddington remarked heartily, as Dembe slowed the car in approach to the sizable group milling ahead of them.

.

_Thank god._ Elizabeth thought to herself, jaw clenched tightly.

.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, Elizabeth Keen was out of the car like a shot, slipping Reddington's arm and bolting for freedom.

So what if the sudden movement made her arm and shoulder throb like hell?

.

_It was worth it._

She was free.

Even Ressler's scowling face was a welcome sight.

.

Cradling her injured shoulder with her other hand, Elizabeth made a beeline for the perpetually frowning agent.

"Any news?" she asked quickly, trying to keep her voice even and hide the stress and utter exhaustion she felt.

Elizabeth would do her best to look professional, even though everything in her wanted to sit down on the ground right then and quit.

.

Ressler's face looked particularly dark as his eyes flicked between Elizabeth and the car she was quickly retreating from.

.

"You need to go to the medic. Now." he waved her past him, his eyes tracking something over her shoulder-_ Reddington, no doubt-_ but Elizabeth Keen did not look back to check.

She accepted Ressler's curt dismissal indifferently, a brief nod as she stepped past him, and strode as steadily as she could towards the waiting paramedic crew.

.

The medics swarmed her eagerly, buzzing to-and-fro as they checked her for injuries.

Their barrage of questions and prodding provided a needed distraction, keeping Elizabeth from looking back towards _whatever_ was going down between Raymond Reddington and Agent Ressler.

.

Elizabeth could hear raised voices, mostly Ressler's, but no- there was Reddington's as well.

She couldn't hear what was being said exactly, but she could _guess_, the tones made it clear.

Half of Elizabeth was burning to know what was happening; burning to see Ressler confront Reddington, to see _anyone_ call the man out on his utter bullshit behavior...the other half wanted to act above it all, to be indifferent to ACT indifferent, even if it wasn't true.

.

Elizabeth compromised, refusing to look back towards the commotion but permitting her thoughts to run freely as the paramedics examined her shoulder.

.

.

.

The conclusion was that Elizabeth Keen had been lucky, that the shot was a through-and-through to the upper arm; a best case scenario...as far as bullet wounds went.

.

She did not feel lucky.

Elizabeth Keen felt muddled.

Indifferent.

With a hint of impatient, bordering on grouchy.

She figured that was reasonable.

She _had_ been shot...

And then harassed.

It had been a long day and it was far from over.

.

The end result was 7 stitches for Elizabeth's arm.

The bullet had grazed her. It had been that close.

A seconds delay and Reddington may not have walked away from the meet.

_Not that he appreciated that fact._

The medics recommended she come to the hospital for an x-ray of her other shoulder if it kept hurting- it was possible she hurt it in the fall.

.

Elizabeth nodded through their suggestions.

She just wanted to go home.

.

But first there would have to be a debriefing.

Elizabeth could handle that.

It was fine.

Exactly what she had expected.

Elizabeth had planned out her responses while staring resolutely out the car window. Running through what words she would chose, trying to predict what questions they would ask, all in an effort to ignore Reddington.

Her skin crawled at the memory of his hand against her neck...the look that had passed over his face- Elizabeth forced the thought from her mind.

.

Even with her responses pre-planned, the debriefing dragged along.

By the end, Elizabeth was regretting her decision to decline the pain meds the paramedics had offered her. She had wanted to keep her senses about her, but the local anesthetic was wearing off and the ache of her injury was returning fiercer than ever.

_Just a little bit longer and you can go home._ Elizabeth repeated to herself, _Go home and hug Tom and eat something and-_

.

Elizabeth's train of thought was interrupted when an assistant intercepted her on the way out of the debriefing room.

She was to report immediately to the war room.

Which was perfect.

A totally reasonable request.

Why should Elizabeth expect them to cut her some slack and let her go home?

They had priorities.

.

.

.

A short detour to her office, closing the blinds and quickly changing into a spare top she kept on hand for situations like this...well, usually it was for when she spilled coffee on herself or had to spend the whole night at the office.

But it would work for this situation as well.

_A fresh set of clothes can change your outlook on life._ Elizabeth grimly reminded herself, as she gingerly fitted her injured arm through the sleeve and buttoned the shirt up.

She did feel markedly better.

Though she probably still looked like hell, at least she was no longer covered in bloodstains.

.

Elizabeth strode into the war room with her head held high.

Confident.

Collected.

Ignoring the dull pulsing ache of her arm and pushing her exhaustion to the back of her mind.

She could handle this.

.

The room was its usual collection of organized chaos; computers whirring, desks covered in papers, boards filled with webs of evidence.

Business as usual.

Everyone was there..._Reddington included_, Elizabeth noted in dark irritation.

The criminal stood with his arms crossed over his suit vest, the smallest of frowns gracing his face. He seemed completely unruffled by the earlier attempt on his life...although Elizabeth noted with idle satisfaction that the jacket of his suit was no where to be seen.

She wondered if her earlier wish had come true.

_A small revenge, of sorts._

.

It appeared that Aram had acquired the surveillance footage from the café.

The other members of the FBI team were gathered in a semi-circle around his computer, watching the incident at the coffee shop replay on the screen.

.

Reddington stood to the left, a little apart from the others.

Agent Ressler stood in the center, hands on his hips and a glare of concentration creasing his forehead as he hovered over Aram's shoulder watching the screen.

AD Cooper was beside him, frowning as he watched the glass shatter in the video.

Agent Malik was to his right, arms crossed and her face serious as she tracked the action on the screen, watching Elizabeth and Reddington hit the floor.

.

Feeling oddly self-conscious, Elizabeth approached them.

.

As she walked towards them Reddington's eyes rose to meet hers.

Elizabeth's eyes flicked away quickly, pretending not to see him and choosing to stand beside Agent Malik.

Ignoring the obvious space left between Agent Ressler and Raymond Reddington.

A space no doubt designed for her.

A space she normally would not have hesitated to occupy.

The space it was her _job_ to fill, as the go-between for the FBI and Raymond Reddington.

.

But for now, Elizabeth Keen needed a break.

She needed her own space.

She certainly did not need to be any nearer to Raymond Reddington than was avoidable.

.

"Debriefing finished, Agent Keen?" The AD Cooper asked, turning towards her.

It was more of a statement than a question, as she had been directed to report back after she was released from debriefing.

Elizabeth bit back whatever resentment was rearing its head within her.

_This was part of the job, she could do her job._

Cooper's eyes swept her up and down, stern and evaluating.

Elizabeth squared her shoulders and tried not to look as exhausted as she felt.

"Yes, sir." she replied, her voice calm, not betraying anything she felt.

.

"A bit unnecesary, since you have the video, right here." Raymond Reddington chimed in, uninvited.

The video in question was being replayed once more, the footage moving frame by frame in slow motion.

Harold Cooper ignored the criminal in his midst, though his irritation was evident in his face.

Reddington took the silence as license to continue speaking, and obliged the assistant director.

.

"I honestly don't understand why we're all still here."

"Someone came very close to killing you." Agent Malik stated, one eyebrow quirking upwards as she turned her attention away from the video and towards Reddington.

"A situation which is now _thoroughly_ under control." Reddington replied.

.

"Under control? The shooter got away!" Agent Ressler snapped, "And your _contact_ disappeared."

"I'm sure Louis didn't go far," Reddington responded glibly, strolling to stand in front of Elizabeth Keen.

"Lizzie, nice of you to join us again. I thought they would send you home."

.

If there had not been a desk behind her, Elizabeth would have stepped back.

He was too close for comfort.

.

Oh, it was an _appropriate_ distance.

A good two and a half feet remained between them.

.

But with Raymond Reddington it made no difference.

The man had a way of making such an ordinary exchange of small talk seem oddly _intimate_.

He could be unsettling at the best of times, but after the days events...

_Definitely too close._

.

Uneasy, but with few options, Elizabeth remained silent.

Hoping his attention would turn elsewhere.

.

It didn't.

Reddington smiled at her genuinely, acting as though they were alone in the room.

"How is the shoulder?

.

_Had he moved closer, or was that just in her head?_

"It's fine." Elizabeth answered, her voice flat but steady.

.

His eyes flickered over her face, reading her, searching for something.

Elizabeth made sure to keep her mask in place, keeping her disquiet to herself as she met his gaze and stood firm.

.

With another wide smile, Reddington took another half-step towards her- f_or real this time, she hadn't imagined it_- gesturing amiably and speaking as though they were old friends.

"I know this wonderful doctor who would be happy to see you. He owes me a favor. I promise he's much more trustworthy than Abraham proved to be."

"It's fine." Elizabeth answered firmly, a hint of steel in her voice as she cut him off, trying to redirect the conversation. "We need to focus on capturing whomever it was that went after you."

.

That did not seem to be the answer he was looking for, -_Elizabeth swore she saw a flicker of a frown cross Reddington's face-_ but it had the desired effect; Raymond Reddington stepped back, shaking his head apologetically.

"Well, we all have our priorities."

.

Clasping his hands behind him, Reddington moved away from Elizabeth, ambling around the room at a slow pace, seeming lost in thought.

While Elizabeth was relieved to have a healthy distance restored between herself and the criminal wandering aimlessly amongst the gathered FBI agents, Reddington's silence (and his sudden need for a stroll) did not sit well with the already impatient team of agents.

.

"Do you know who took a shot at you?" Harold Cooper finally asked in exasperation, breaking the silence.

"I have my suspicions." Reddington replied casually, continuing his stroll around the room, pausing briefly to inspect a part of the evidence boards. That was all he said, allowing silence to gather in the room once again.

.

Elizabeth realized that Reddington had no doubt been similarly uncooperative the entire time she had been in debriefing.

Responding to the FBI's questions with non-answers, or no answers at all.

His usual M.O.

Infuriatingly _almost_-helpful, but never quite.

She felt a twinge of sympathy for the tired faces around her.

While her day had been a nightmare, the rest of their's was certainly no cakewalk.

.

"Suspicions?" Donald spoke up again, stepping towards Reddington, his irritation and disdain evident in his tone. "It's obvious that your contact set you up. Louis, whatever his real name is, he sold you out. He almost got you- got Agent Keen- killed!"

Reddington glanced at Ressler for a moment before turning on his heel to face AD Cooper once again.

"Donald is right, Harold."

That was surprising to hear, coming from Reddington.

But not as surprising as what came next.

.

A commotion sounded in the hallway, and everyone -except Reddington, of course- turned in surprise to see Dembe arrive, surrounded by an armed escort of guards...dragging a familiar, if barely recognizable, face along with him.

.

Louis looked far worse for wear than when Elizabeth had last seen him.

.

Elizabeth felt an eery sense of deja vu.

Louis looked much like Tom had after Zamani had gotten to him.

His face bloodied and his gaze unsteady.

Louis kept his eyes fixed to the floor, refusing to look at any of them.

.

Elizabeth's eyes flicked uncertainly towards Reddington.

.

The entire room was staring at Raymond Reddington, but the concierge of crime seemed entirely unphased by both the attention and the state of the new arrival in their midst.

.

"Now, Dembe has already acquired all the relevant information from my dear friend Louis," Raymond Reddington announced unceremoniously, gesturing briefly towards the beaten man before them.

"But I'm sure you all would like to try your own hand at him."

Reddington shot a look in Meera Malik's direction.

"That's your division, isn't it?"

With a grim smile, Reddington turned indifferently away from the man crumpled on the ground in front of him and met Elizabeth Keen's eyes from across the room.

Her expression of mixed shock, disbelief, and disgust had no effect on his own visage.

Reddington was remorseless.

He held Elizabeth's disapproving gaze in challenge.

Daring her to speak against him, to speak against his actions.

His eyes held no regret, and Elizabeth looked away first, unable to stomach the man staring back at her.

.

Unable to sort out her feelings on the matter.

On what Reddington had done to Louis...amongst other things.

This entire day was too much for Elizabeth. _What did they expect from her?_

What was _he_ expecting from her? Approval?

Or something else...

.

"You've had him this whole time?" Ressler burst out angrily, rounding on Reddington. "We've wasted manpower looking for him-"

.

Elizabeth was grateful that someone had spoken up so quickly, shifting Raymond Reddington's attention away from her once more.

.

"I'm not surprised. Most of what your agency does is a waste, Donald." Reddington chided, his attention sliding coldly past Agent Ressler to focus on AD Harold Cooper.

.

"I think that is quite enough fun for tonight, don't you, Harold?"

A look passed between the two of them, and AD Cooper looked away first.

"Take him away." The assistant director ordered gruffly to the armed guards.

They moved quickly to remove the pitiful looking Louis from Dembe's unaffected custody.

.

"There is nothing more to be done, for the moment." Reddington declared to the room at large, gesturing amiably to the lot of them.

"I think we all deserve a rest."

.

Elizabeth felt his attention turn to her, felt Reddington's eyes slipping over her, evaluating her, as he spoke.

"Agent Keen, can we offer you a ride home? You must be tired, it's been a grueling day."

_Not what she wanted to hear._

.

"I'll manage." Elizabeth replied evenly, meeting his gaze stonily, bristling but refusing to react further.

_Fat chance in hell, Reddington. _

She wasn't going anywhere with him anytime soon.

Her hostility may have shown through her tone of voice a tinge more than Elizabeth had meant it to.

.

A flicker of something- _Elizabeth didn't have time to decipher what_- passed over Reddington's face before he flashed her a big smile.

.

It didn't reach his eyes.

.

In that moment, Elizabeth was glad to be standing standing between Agent Ressler and Agent Malik.

She was glad to have AD Cooper nearby.

.

She was desperately glad she was not alone with the man- _with the criminal_- standing across from her.

.

Elizabeth resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself as comfort against the dark chill that spread over her.

She couldn't let Reddington see how affected she was.

How he was intimidating her...here, of all places.

.

"Suit yourself." Reddington's voice was pleasant, indifferent.

But his eyes were cold.

.

Elizabeth needed to snap out of it. This wasn't like her.

She was brave. Fearless.

But right now, she was shaken.

This whole day; the assassination attempt, her near miss with the bullet..._Reddington_...it all had her rattled.

Elizabeth just hoped she hid it well enough.

.

Lifting his fedora from where it sat on a nearby desk, Reddington placed it on his head and casually strode from the room.

"I'll see you all tomorrow."

Dembe gave her a brief nod before following Reddington out of the room, a silent shadow as usual.

.

Reddington's parting words hung in the air as the FBI agents remained standing where they were, each momentarily absorbed in their own thoughts.

.

AD Cooper moved first, straightening up and snapping back into his role.

"Agent Keen, you're going home. Get some rest. Ressler?"

The blond agent nodded back at him.

"I'll make sure she gets there."

"Good. Malik, you handle the informant."

"It shouldn't be a problem. Reddington's people seem to have shook him up for us already."

"I want to know what Reddington knows. No more surprises come tomorrow, understood?"

Silent agreement hung in the air, though Elizabeth felt like they all doubted the goal was achievable.

"Let's move people." Cooper snapped in finality before stalking out of the war room.

.

.

.

The car ride was silent for most of the way.

Tense, at least on Agent Ressler's part.

He had the air of a man who wanted to say something but did not know where to start, and Elizabeth was not inclined to help him out.

She stared out the window, her good arm wrapped across her chest, her thumb rubbing gently against the bandage on her shoulder.

Elizabeth ignored him, willing Ressler not to bring it up.

To not broach the subject they both knew he wanted to talk about.

.

The GPS chimed out directions and Elizabeth calculated the remaining distance in her head, weighing her chances of making it home before Ressler collected his words enough to start.

.

"How's your arm?"

_Nope, no such luck._

Elizabeth grimaced, rallying her remaining strength for the conversation to come.

"It's fine. It just grazed me." She stated flatly, foolishly hoping Ressler would leave it at that.

Allow them to lapse back into silence. _If only..._

"That was close." Ressler seemed prepared to bulldoze through the niceties, gaining steam as he went.

"The medics say I was lucky."

_Drop it, don't bring it up._ Elizabeth wished earnestly, accidentally catching Agent Ressler's eyes in the rear-view mirror.

.

He looked away first.

.

"You already made your official report?"

"Yes."

.

A beat of silence as Ressler searched for a way to ask his real question, an uncharacteristically thoughtful move for him.

She knew what he was fishing for, but Elizabeth did not feel like cooperating.

She just wanted to put it all behind her.

.

"What happened in the car, Keen?"

It was about as tactful as Donald Ressler got.

"It's in the report."

"Keen." Ressler snapped at her, frustration at her clipped responses obvious in his tone. "What really happened. Not whatever whitewashed report you fed them."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that Keen, I was on the other side of that earpiece, what happened?"

Elizabeth frowned, averting her eyes out her own window.

.

.

"Reddington took the earpiece."

.

"And you let him?" Donald's voice was accusing, provoking Elizabeth to snap back angrily.

"I didn't have a choice in the matter."

.

She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.

_Shit._

_._

If she hadn't seemed weak before...

.

Her words hung between them, and Elizabeth scrambled to find a way to recover from her mistake.

.

"What happened in the car, Keen?" Ressler's voice was low and serious, with just a hint of anger.

"Did he, did he threaten you?"

A further, unspoken question hovered at the end of that line.

A question that hit too close to home for Elizabeth.

It rankled.

"I can handle myself." Elizabeth snapped back, the words bitter in her mouth.

Angry silence stretched between them.

.

"Reddington is a dangerous man." Ressler stated finally.

"I know that." Elizabeth ground out in response, still refusing to look back at him.

.

"I may not...like...profiling." Ressler said the word as if it was diststeful, "But I can tell you this, Keen, from my years tracking him, Reddington is not a good person. He isn't like you or me. If a situation will work to his advantage, he will seize it without a second thought. Collateral damage is not a consideration. "

"You don't need to tell me this. I know.

.

"You jumped in front of a bullet for him-"

"The FBI needs him," Elizabeth interrupted, "You would have done the same-"

"I know." Ressler's turn to snap at her now. "We both would have. It's who we are. But Raymond Reddington."

He shook his head derisively.

"His only sense of duty, his only sense of loyalty, is to himself. He may act like a friend but you can't trust him, because-"

"-because he'll turn on you." Keen finished for him, staring out her window.

"...Right." Donald amended, seeming unsettled that she had agreed with him.

"Don't forget that, Keen."

"I won't." she murmured, staring forlornly at the sidewalks as they drove past.

.

They lapsed into silence for the remained of the drive.

It may have stretched awkwardly between them, but at the moment Elizabeth was too tired, too physically and mentally exhausted, to care.

.

The car slowed to a stop in front of her home, and Elizabeth unbuckled her seat wordlessly, opening the door and stepping to the curb. She muttered a quick "thanks for the ride" as she closed the door, her eyes sticking to the sidewalk as she walked towards the steps of her house, moving slowly, her feet as heavy as her thoughts.

.

A shout made her stop,

"Keen!"

She turned back to the car to see Ressler frowning after her, the window rolled halfway down. "I'm glad you're okay."

.

She mustered a small smile, raising her uninjured arm up for a small goodbye wave.

Donald Ressler nodded gruffly, at her or at himself, Elizabeth couldn't tell.

.

The car idled where it stood, Ressler was apparently taking his job very seriously, ensuring she got all the way home, waiting to see her step through the door.

It made Elizabeth smile despite herself.

.

The two of them may have had their disagreements, but knowing he was there, Elizabeth climbed the steps a little easier.

**-END-**

* * *

**x.x.x**

_Author's Note:_

Bam! It's done! (Thank goodness!) It took longer than expected to finish, but I'm happy with the final product.

Thank you so much for reading! And for all the reviews! They are much appreciated!

This 2nd part ended up with more Reddington than originally planned (not that anyone is complaining), so that was an interesting twist.

Reddington had Louis in the trunk of the car the whole time, courtesy of Dembe catching the rat when he ran out of the café.

All in all, Louis got off easy...for now at least. Whoever hired him has an unpleasant surprise heading their way.

Darker Red is scary, and (_our still shocked_) Elizabeth is scrambling to reestablish distance between them, something Reddington does _not_ seem to appreciate.

Talk about a long day, _amiright_? But Lizzie finally made it home.

That's the end of this story, I hope you enjoyed it!


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